Grape season is upon us -- and the corn, apples, and tomatoes, with a vengeance. The prequel to fall here has never been prettier, and we have to be gone in the very middle of the best time. Oh, well.
Friday I had a party for some of my Library friends and co-workers, and it went well. I strung white party lights on the lilacs and along the sidewalk, and turned on the ones in the living room and dining room, played vinyl from the 40s, 50s and 60s, including an original disk of the Weavers, and got out the big telescope for moon and Jupiter views.
Yhe menu included rice, tomato-veggie soup, tomato-veggie-tofu sauce for the rice, steamed zukes, boiled corn on the cob, Chinese dumplings (made by a co-worker who's from Beijing), ginger-garlic dipping sauce (from her recipe), steamed beets, apple, grapes, cherry tomatoes, salted peanuts, Mission figs, kamala olives, kamala olive-feta cheese three-grain bread, butter, sweet gherkins, lettuce-bok choi-bell pepper-lamb's quarters-nasturtium blossom-beet green salad, Belgian beer, apple cider, well water with a sprig of mint, Oregon red and Washington white wine, coffee, and tea. For dessert there was rhubard cobbler (made by Beloved, who says it's really rhubard "crisp") with vanilla bean ice cream, and brownies brought by one of the guests.
It was a long, quiet and very pleasant evening. The guests were encouraged to consider dancing, games, and etc. but preferred One Acre Farm tours followed by dinner and conversation, sitting around in chairs arranged in a circle lit by the party lights.
Among the guests we were honored by the presence of the 2006 Eugene Celebration S.L.U.G. Queen, Slugretha Latifah Uleafa Gastropodia Jackson, in full regalia. Everyone bowed to her, and she was pleased to be served vanilla bean ice cream with a light topping of real maple syrup. For information on the S.L.U.G. (The Society for the Legitimization of the Ubiquitous Gastropod) Queens of the last 20 years, see this URL.
A few days ago, while sitting under a tree with my PFLAG friends, I heard a tremendous cacaphony of goose-talk, and ran out into the open to see some three hundred heading for the nearby reservoir. I think it must have been the most grrse I've ever heard speaking at once. Goodness knows how they made themselves heard over the competition. Or maybe they were just all saying, "I'm so glad to be alive."
One is, other things being equal, which we know they are not, at this season of the year, very much glad to be alive. If it only it could be so for all.
I'm off tomorrow, with Beloved, for labiaplasty with Dr. Reed. So I've asked all my friends to pick all the grapes, apples, and vegs they want, while watching the house. I've rebuilt and cleaned the gutters, mowed the brown, dry grass, watered trees and the garden, set the potting shed to rights, and battened down all the hatches. We're packed. Beloved is away at the moment, making sure Last Son has all the groceries he will need. I think she was hoping to do the same for Daughter, but she's just called me from on the road somewhere near Seattle, so she's on her own (neither has a car).
I've checked the storm chart, and, sure enough, TD Six has formed up out in the Atlantic. Worse case, it could be a hurrincane and reach us while we are in Miami. But not until after the surgery, which is on Friday, the eighth. Our hotel is a low building near the bay, so if we run into trouble, we may move back to the clinic, which a very solid five-story building. Then, if I'm recovered enough, I might find myself serving as a recuer. Life is full of adventures, isn't it?